


The Demons of Past and Present

by alltherowboats



Series: The Demons of Past and Present [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Drarry, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltherowboats/pseuds/alltherowboats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy has always had a complicated life. That didn't end with the Wizard War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demons of Past and Present

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the fantastic Mystra, for editing/beta-ing for this story.
> 
> I'm a little rusty for fanfic writing. Not an excuse, just a warning.

Draco Malfoy was dreaming. He knew this, while he tossed in his bed.

 

While he dreamt, he remembered.

 

It was a cold night. Most nights of his childhood were cold like this. Draco could feel the chill move through the house, the almost-wind that made the hairs on the back of neck stand up. He readjusted himself, crossing his legs and leaning back over his book.

 

He was nine years old, and was trying furiously to look smart while reading this big, dusty volume. It made him sneeze. It also made his mother fawn over him. When she saw him like this, she always called him smart and gently touched his hair, which she slicked back with pomade every morning. After years of this, his hair did little else. Sometimes he wished it could look messy and not ever lay flat, just so it would be interesting.

 

It was the summer of 1989, and he would be ten years old in a month. While he pretended to read, he thought of next year. Next summer, he would turn 11. Next year, he would get his letter from Hogwarts, and would be allowed to go get a wand, and impressive school robes, and would be sorted into Slytherin. Of these things, he had no doubt. He looked good in green, and couldn’t wait to see all the other children at Hogwarts look at him and think how handsome he was.

 

Along with the constant cold that sat in his house, there was something else; colder, more suppressing, and much more frightening. The sound of his father walking around the house, the tap of his cane, struck Draco, right in the heart, with ice and with dread.

 

His father was always cold and distant and full of anger. But sometimes, it was more than that. He hit Dobby all the time. They all did, because he deserved it. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Dobby took his punishment and knew it was called for. Sometimes, that wasn’t enough for Father. He would turn on Draco. His mother would silently flee from the room. Mother was not fond of what Lucius did, but she could not bring herself to pick a side. At least, not at this time in Draco’s life. Father would look at Draco, with no more different expression than normal, but a hardening of the eyes that Draco could only detect when he got older. His mouth would pull into a sneer. . . 

 

Draco woke with a start. He was no longer nine years old. His hair was still slicked back, but his face was no longer round. He was now 24 years of age, and his face was thin, sharp angled, with years of stress and anger starting to show in the lines of his forehead and around his eyes. He sat up in bed, resting his forearms on his knees, hunching over. His cold, grey eyes shone like silver dollars in the moonlight that filtered through the window. He stretched his neck, and hung his head. Draco was restless.

 

He felt a cold hand on his back. Instead of jumping, he relaxed under it, like molten lava under the touch of the cool ocean. It calmed him, and he caught it and brought it to his lips. The hand went back to the long, lean muscles of his back. Draco never filled out like so many of his other friends and acquaintances, but stayed slim and tall.

 

He laid back in bed, grabbing the hand that was on his back and pulling the rest of the arm around him. He found comfort there, like he always did.

 

The rest of the person attached to the arm rustled under the blanket, and Draco immediately regretted pulling on the arm.

 

Harry Potter rolled over and gave him a rueful smile.


End file.
